


The Curse of Cornelius Sigan: how it might have gone instead

by Shamelessly_Radiant



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur: Clotpole, Because Merlin deserved better, Can be read as pre-slash, Episode Fix-it, Episode: s02e01 The Curse of Cornelius Sigan, For slash I might just need some thousands words more, Gen, M/M, Merlin: Saviour in shining armour, oh well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-18 18:30:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21281288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shamelessly_Radiant/pseuds/Shamelessly_Radiant
Summary: 6+1 alternative scenes in which Arthur is slightly less of a clotpole and Merlin's efforts are if not valued, at least recognised, and he isn't treated as badly. Or, how the episode should have gone, in my opinion.
Relationships: Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 266





	The Curse of Cornelius Sigan: how it might have gone instead

**Author's Note:**

> Look - I think I get what the writers are going for, Merlin, the undervalued hero keeping his magic a secret as he safes Arthur over and over again, but that does not mean he should be treated that way. At all. The whole, you'll never be recognised or you won't be thanked speeches from Gaius aside, I decided, no, this boy deserves better. So here's my take on how it might have gone instead.

_1._

Arthur notices Merlin’s empty hands as he’s turning around. “_You?” _He asks, incredulously, and at Merlin’s insulted glare he laughs, elated and loud as he reaches out to rub the other man’s head, making him stumble slightly under the weight of Arthur’s arm on his back. “I didn’t know you had it in you, Merlin. We’ll make a proper huntsman of you yet. Now go and check if it’s dead.” Promptly followed by a shove in the aforementioned direction. Which prompts an argument about _I’m not going close to that thing unarmed_, and Arthur plucking a spear out of the nearest man’s hand, which happens to be a very disgruntled looking Cedric— not that anyone is paying him any mind— and thrusting it into Merlin’s hands as he pushes him towards the boar.

And then later, quietly, as Merlin is helping Arthur take off his tunic and vest for a bath _You saved my life, there_ and at Merlin’s half-hearted shrug as he waves it away, _You always surprise me, Merlin _and it is warm, even as neither is meeting the other’s eyes, and a second later Arthur is snapping: “Well, get on with it, I need to be ready for patrol in less than two hours, really Merlin, you’re the worst servant ever, how do I still put up with you?”

_2._

“Sire!” As Merlin tries to scramble up, a blinding pain travels across his side, and he ends up nearly collapsing again, holding on to his ribs as he kneels in the straw.

“What are you doing?” asks Arthur, but now there is some impatient concern on his face, too.

“I wasn’t sleeping!” Merlin tries, “I— there was smoke, I don’t know what happened, I— _ah!_” He clenches his eyes shut, tries to breathe evenly through the burn in his side, and feels rather than sees Arthur as the other presses down to get him fully on his knees again.

“Hold still,” Arthur says, gruffly. “No need to injure yourself and become even more useless than you already are. Here,” he bats Merlin’s hands away and feels carefully along his ribs. “Breathe, does that hurt?”

“Yes,” Merlin whimpers pitifully.

“Twist your torso, there we go, is that okay?”

Merlin nods, not meeting Arthur’s gaze.

“Well. It seems you got lucky, Merlin. Usually the side effects of being trampled by horses are worse than some bruised ribs.”

“Arthur, I swear I don’t know what happened. They were all tied up, and I know better than sleeping between animals that weigh 900 pounds.”

“Yes,” Arthur says, “I’d think that even you would not be that much of an idiot. Come on, let’s get you to Gaius. He’ll get you cleaned up. Can you walk?”

Arthur heaves Merlin’s arm over his shoulders, supporting Merlin’s weight as they stand up. As they pass Cedric in the doorway, Arthur pauses.

“Cedric.”

“Yes, sire?” the man is really too oily for Merlin’s liking. All wide-eyed and hopeful as he looks at Arthur.

“Go find my horses.” And Merlin can barely supress a smile at the look on the other’s man face before Arthur leads him away.

_3._

“The gate’s not even damaged,” Arthur remarks to Gaius, “I don’t understand how they got in.”

“Must’ve used a key,” Gaius says from the other side of the tomb, as he is bending down to inspect something.

“Impossible. I’ve got the only one.” Arthur says, as he holds it up. When he notices Gaius isn’t looking, he adds “I’m keeping it on my belt, with the others.”

“Do you ever take them off, sire?”

Arthur starts shaking his head, but then realises. Yes, he does take it off. At night, when he keeps them next to his bed, in his chambers which are normally only accessible to him and Merlin, except for—

“Cedric,” Arthur growls, and is gone before Gaius can straighten up fully. As such, he never even notices the jewel Gaius is holding, which is, concerningly, no longer blue.

4.

“Cedric is—”

“Yes, I know, he is likely—”

“—by an evil spirit— wait, you kno—”

“—the thief, I’ve sent my— wait, what?”

“What did you say?” They say both at the same time, and then “no, you first.”

Right. Impeccable communication, as usual.

“I said,” Arthur says, “I already realised Cedric is likely the thief, I figured that one out by myself, thank you very much” and raises a warning eyebrow at Merlin just in case he decides to give commentary on the fact Arthur possesses talents of deduction. However, Merlin is looking at him with a rather worrying blank stare, only worrying due to the fact that it is blanker than usual. “What were _you_ blabbering about?”

“Where is Cedric now?” Merlin asks, completely ignoring Arthur’s question.

“I don’t know,” Arthur says. “He’s disappeared. You were saying?”

“I’ve got to find him,” Merlin mutters, turning on his heel and walking away, even as Arthur scrambles to stand, calling, incredulously “Merlin. _Merlin_, what were you—”

Arthur breaks himself off as Merlin disappears through the door, and leans heavily on the table, annoyed, deciding _firmly _that it is past time Merlin spend some time in the stocks again, so that perhaps next time he remembered the royal protocol, such as, oh perhaps the fact that a servant never should turn his back to the _crown prince_ before being dismissed.

_5._

That night, however, it becomes very clear what Merlin meant with possession by evil spirits. Worryingly clear, in fact. Arthur thinks that perhaps even Merlin’s haste could be excused, but only if his manservant would have been busy looking for a solution. However, since said manservant is nowhere to be found, perhaps not. In any case, Arthur has more pressing matters to attend to, involving certain not at all friendly looking creatures, and trying to avoid being knocked out by those creatures as he shouts at his men to “Retreat, that’s an order!”

He doesn’t remember much after that.

When he comes to, it is to the sight of a dead Cedric, dressed in a very weird attire mainly consisting of black feathers, a Merlin that rapidly moves something shiny behind his back and before Arthur can finish focusing on that, a hobbling Gaius that asks him, repeatedly and urgently if he’s “alright, sire? Are you hurt? Can you stand?”

_6._

It turns out that somehow, Gaius and Merlin figured out a way to capture Sigan’s soul again, and while his father seems satisfied with the tale, Arthur can’t help but think that it all sounds a bit too easy to be true.

“What can I say,” says Merlin, “just lucky, I guess.” With that insolent grin that almost conceals the fact that Merlin is most certainly hiding something, but then, Arthur has adopted the policy of not looking to closely or asking too difficult questions ever since his new servant arrived at Camelot. So, he doesn’t. Instead, he tells Merlin, sickly sweet, that he is in need for his armour to be polished.

“All that?!” Merlin asks, eyes wide.

“Yes. By tomorrow,” Arthur says. “I trust you’ll remember _not to turn your back on me _next time I’m asking you questions.”

Merlin winces, and then smiles.

After a second, Arthur smiles back, and promptly throws the bag into Merlin’s grinning face.

_(7.)_

“I should’ve trusted you,” Arthur murmurs that night, eyes closed. “I might have been a bit of a clotpole, to let him set me up against you so easily.”

“Go to sleep, sire,” Merlin whispers back, and gently strokes Arthur’s hair away from his face, just once, before he puts out the last candle, and it is dark, and everything is as it should be.

**Author's Note:**

> Psst. Who knows what happens in Arthur's chambers after it is dark? ;) I never said Merlin left.
> 
> (Also, the seventh scene might be a bit AU, since in this little verse the clotpole scene did not quite happen, but just indulge me, I needed to write that).
> 
> Leave me a comment?


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